Seamstress to Playgirl
by firemask
Summary: Newsies is just a play, or is it? Cassie is just the Seamstress or is she? That's all it seems until the 'play' takes on some very real qualities. please read and review!
1. Default Chapter

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, if you sue you won't get anything but my copy of the movie and a very old stuffed cat.  
  
Cassie June Magee sat on the damp floor of the sewing room. It was a scene very familiar to all those who worked at Mackenheim Theatre. To see Cassie crouched in a corner mending the costumes to fit the actors. When she stood she was all of 5' 7", with her wavy, cinnamon hair falling almost to her waist. She was thin and pretty looking, but terribly shy, Cassie had worked and lived at the Theatre for over five years and her only friend was Peter Rondello.  
  
Pete, as she called him, was the one who had convinced her to take the job in the first place. He knew that somewhere in that painfully shy girl lurked the spirit of a true actress, he only had to bring it out. Introducing her to the other actors and actresses hadn't helped; he doubted if they even remembered who she was. To most of them she was only the Seamstress. But that was going to change, today.  
  
Melissa Hartstone had quit the theatre. Normally it would have been a cause for much relief, but not now. Not for this play. Not for this Musical! Melissa had been the only named female in the whole play! They only one with lines! She'd walked out, taking Sandra Clanfeild with her, the understudy. With only two hours before their first performance the troop was desperate, for someone. Anyone, with a good memory who could learn the lines in time would do. It was too bad no one was available.  
  
In the midst of the shouting and phone calls and panicked searching Pete had an idea. "Mr. Ross?" he knocked cautiously on the door. "Can I come in?"  
  
"Of course Peter! Any news on a replacement?" he asked panicking slightly. His normally pale face was flushed with worry and desperation. The collar of his shirt was open, his tie loose about it.  
  
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about sir." Pete sat in the hard wood chair in front of the massive desk. "I think I know someone who can do the part sir," he hesitated, but Ross nodded anxiously for him to continue. "What about Miss Magee?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"Who?" Ross asked confused now. "You mean the Seamstress that lives here?" "Yes sir," Pete said, slightly annoyed. "She knows the part Mr. Ross. She's been helping me and a few of the others rehearse."  
  
"How good is she?" Ross asked excitedly, the gleam coming back into his eyes.  
  
"Excellent, sir!" Pete took an excited breath. "I've never met anyone like her. She makes you feel like your there, actually there, like you're really who you're pretending to be."  
  
"Why isn't she a member of the company then?" Ross asked sckeptically.  
  
"Well, ahh" Pete hesitated, "There's only one problem with her." He hesitated again. "She's very, very shy, sir."  
  
"That's it?!" Ross cried happily. "I thought it was something serious! I don't care what you have to do, but that girl will be ready to perform the part of 'Sarah' in two hours or we are all finished." He jumped up excitedly. "You must know her well; I want you to take her over. Miss Magee will never know what hit her, make sure of it." He looked back at Pete. "What are you still doing here Peter?" he asked raising his eye brow.  
  
Pete ran up the stairs to the sewing room, taking them two at a time. On the way her collected people and quickly explained the situation. "Newsies is saved! Cassie is going to be Sarah!" They gave each other questioning looks. Pete saw them, "You people are impossible! Cassie, the Seamstress, Cassie!"  
  
Slowly the light of recognition began to shine in their eyes. They all knew Cassie was painfully shy of crowds. The only problem now would be getting her to do it before she had time to think about it. For once the two hour time limit seemed a blessing. Cast and crew members began to come from every where as news traveled through the theatre. They were going to save Newsies! Now they only had to get Cassie to help. 


	2. Chapter 2 To Convince

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Newsies y'all wouldn't be reading this now.So take my advice and leave me with the only things I do own, a copy of the movie and a stuffed cat (real useful!)  
  
Chapter 2-  
  
As Pete raced up the stairway explaining the situation he snagged certain carefully calculated people to help him with Cassie. He looked wildly around for the costumes manager, Evan Crowler. Evan was seated precariously on a railing playing cards with another actor, Jessie Williams. Jessie was also on Pete's radar. He snagged the two of them as he whizzed by. Their cards floated forgotten two floors down. Seth Adams wasn't as easy to locate, but he always seemed to know when someone needed him and he appeared on his own breathing heavily.  
  
These were the ones that could help Pete the most. Besides being the costumes manager, Evan was also playing the part of 'Race'. The costumes would need to be altered quickly and Evan could do that. Jessie was not only Pete's best friend but also the best actor the troop had. He was playing 'Jack', and if Pete needed anything right now it was Jessie's support in getting Cassie on stage. Seth was also important. Besides being the choreographer he also played 'Spot'. Seth didn't really know about Cassie at all, being the new man on the scene, but he would do whatever was necessary to ensure the success of the play.  
  
Pete and his chosen waved the large group that had followed them back as they skidded to a halt outside the sewing room door. "We don't want to scare her guys, but be ready for opposition." Pete explained in a whisper, gasping for air. "Just rush her and hold her, so we can start.  
  
Cassie glanced up at the door from her corner. She shook her head; she could have sworn she'd heard voices and pounding footstep. Again she bent to the costume she was mending. The door burst open to reveal several men coming at her! "What on earth do you think you're..." she gasped as Evan grabbed her, "Get your hands off of me! ..What is going on?......Stop unbuttoning my shirt! Hey that's MY SKIRT!!!" She pushed and struggled as Evan breezed around her undressing and taking measurements.  
  
Pete smiled slightly amused by the whole scene, and then realized she was down to her underwear! He averted his eyes from her to the wall next to him. "Cassie, I've done!"  
  
"Done what!?" she cried exasperated.  
  
"You are going to be 'Sarah'." he exclaimed proudly not taking hi eyes from the wall.  
  
Cassie stared at him, disbelief written all over her now pale face. "Are you insane?" Suddenly she seemed to realize she was standing in the middle of the sewing room with nothing on but her underwear and with four men in the room no less!  
  
Jessie, his eyes also fixed on the wall finally spoke up, "Look you can do this Cassie, if not for yourself then for the troop." He glanced at her and blushed, seeing her exposed so. "Look you've helped us rehearse, you know the lines, Seth can teach you the dance moves or we can leave yours out altogether, and Evan well he's already started so." he trailed off.  
  
Cassie glanced around and saw Evan coming at her with a costume. It was one of 'Sarah's' dresses. Before she could do anything the dress was forced over her head. The second it was on her she made a bolt for the door.  
  
"Oh no you don't!" Seth yelled scrambling after her. He caught her just outside the open door, but not before she caught a glimpse of the crowd on the stairway. Terrified, Cassie allowed herself to be half dragged half carried into the room again. "Are you going to run again?" Seth asked suspiciously as he set her gently down.  
  
"No." she whispered softly. The crowd on the stairs had terrified her and she was being to tear up. "I can't do this you guys. I'm already getting hysterical and those are people I know out there!" she yelled at them.  
  
Evan began pining up her dress, "Hold her still or I'm going to kill her with these pins!"  
  
They all rushed forward and grabbed her, holding on securely. "Why me, there must be a million other girls who could do it!"  
  
"Maybe, Cassie," Jessie said, "But I've never seen anyone like you." The others nodded their agreement.  
  
Evan nodded that he was done, when they let go he practically ripped the dress off her. Startled the gazes of the other three flew to the wall. Seth leaned out and retrieved her clothes from the floor where they had been thrown. He handed them over to her. As she got dressed they turned to leave. Once at the door Cassie asked them again, "Why me?"  
  
Pete took a breath, "Cassie, you are the best actress I've ever know. I forget that my name is really Peter Rondello, that I'm not really the person I'm pretending to be. You have something special Cassie, and we'll be damned if we let you throw it all away just because you're shy!"  
  
Pete, Seth and Evan left, leaving only Jessie. "He's right you know. You're the only person who can do this for us in the time we have. We're all counting on you kid." He turned to leave.  
  
"But what if I let you down?" she asked pleadingly.  
  
He turned back to her and gazed into her eyes. His intense blue met her sparkling green, sparkling with tears. His softened, "You won't" he said, certainty hard in his voice. He turned abruptly and hurried down the stairs.  
  
"Oh Lord, what have they done?" Cassie asked the empty room around. 


	3. Electricity

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything you've seen with all your lovely eyes before. 'SIGH'  
  
Electricity. That was what the air felt like to Cassie as she cowered backstage. She ran a shaking hand over her dress once again and tried to take a deep calming breath. It didn't work. She clenched her skirt in a whit knuckle grip trying to stop the violent shaking of her hands. Evan had done a masterful job refitting the costume for her and it fit perfectly.  
  
The crowd on the other side of the curtain absolutely hummed with anticipation. It crackled like electricity through the air backstage. Actors and crew scrambled around going through last second changes and generally trying to look like they knew what they were doing. Vaguely, Cassie heard Pete trying to calm her down. That wasn't working either. The last two hours had been a flurry of activity. She'd gone through lines, actions, practiced kissing (that one was a nightmare), had her clothes ripped off four more times, and to top it all off Mr. Ross had told her if the play failed because of her, she was out. O-U-T. On the streets as soon as that curtain fell. The only good thing that had happened was that it had been decided that she wouldn't have to dance or sing. Thank God. That was the last thing she needed to worry about now.  
  
Hands rested gently on her shoulders, startled Cassie spun around jerkily. Jessie smiled slightly. "You can do this, you know." he paused looking at her. "We're all right here for you. Just go out there and do what we KNOW you were born to do."  
  
Cassie smile was strained but she tried anyway. It was all she could do. It was all any of them could do. Suddenly music began to play. It was time! Jessie dropped his hands from Cassie's shoulders and stepped back.  
  
"Break a leg, kid!" he called as he rushed away to get into his costume.  
  
Cassie took a shuddering breath and steeled herself for what she knew would be a horrifying experience. Pete took her hand. "Come on, it's time." he whispered.  
  
It was time to make her first entrance ever as an actress! One last breath was all Cassie had time for before the curtain was swept open to reveal the scene to the audience. Cassie stood frozen in her place, clutching Pete's hand.  
  
"Oh Lord, what have I done?" she breathed to Pete.  
  
"Nothing yet." he whispered back kindly.  
  
And so it began...  
  
Next installment.. be prepared for a very strange twist!  
  
A.N. sorry it's so short, I'll upload again tomorrow. Hope you've enjoyed it all so far. Please review. If you don't like the story tell me why. Suggestions are always welcome. Heck right now I'd even take flames. Remember some of us are starving artists, all we get are the reviews. Have a great Friday y'all!!!!!!! 


	4. and then they were gone

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I may, I wish I might, own all the Newsies, just for one night. 'sighs' and waits for the wish to come true..Guess it's not gonna be happenin' tonight.  
  
Cassie stood rigid, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car (hey I live in the great northern woods, what can I say?). Pete gently nudged her, trying to prompt her into speaking the first line. What was she supposed to say, oh yah. The words were there, they were just stuck in her throat. She opened her mouth to say them, but only a gurgle escaped. Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled with the words that wouldn't come. The crew and other actors stood off stage watching her. Some mouthed the words as if she had forgotten them; others stared at her with wide panicked eyes.  
  
Cassie's vision blurred, and she closed her mouth. She just knew this was it; she was going to be kicked out and only because she was so darn shy. She turned her head slightly to look away from the vast crowd in front of her and to look pleadingly at Pete. He nodded encouragingly at her and nudged her again. The audience looked expectantly at her, some showing obvious doubt and disbelief at her inability. Steeling herself once again, Cassie looked to the crowd and took another breath. She began to wring her hands. This was it, she was going to say the line. The first line was always the hardest, right? "Here goes nothing." Cassie thought bravely.  
  
"Davey," she turned to Pete. "Do you really think it's a good idea for you to quit school and sell papers? I mean papers of all things." With the words spoken Cassie felt her fear almost melt away completely. She turned to look back at the audience to test herself. But..  
  
They were gone. She stared uncomprehendingly at the scene that met her. The audience was definitely gone, but there were no empty seats. In there place was a breathtaking view of a city. But not like any city she had ever seen. The buildings were smaller in contrast to the gigantic buildings of steel and glass she was used to. People in what had to be costume bustled around down on the street. The sun was just starting to peek over the low roof tops of the beautiful brick and cement block buildings, and it dazzled her eyes.  
  
Blinking sharply, Cassie held up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Vaguely, she realized that someone was speaking to her, trying to get her attention. Cassie turned around slowly to face them. It was Pete, or maybe not. Whoever it was they looked like him. But something was different from the Pete she knew. The clothes were the same, matching brown jacket, vest, and pants, with a blue and white shirt. But as she looked into his eyes she noticed a difference. Something wasn't quite right about him. Come to think of it something wasn't quite right about any of this.  
  
Startled, Cassie realized he was talking to her. "I'm sorry what did you say, Pete?"  
  
"Huh?" he asked startled, "What did you call me?" He looked at her strangely. "My name is David. Remember your brother?"  
  
Cassie's mouth snapped shut and she let out a strangled noise. "Uhhh, ya sure, Davey. I remember you."  
  
"You know, I think the stress of dad losing his job and us two quitting school has finally gotten to you." David looked past her, out the window of the apartment. "To answer your earlier question, no I'm not sure selling papers is going to work." He ran a hand distractedly through his curly, brown hair. "Maybe I should just get a job at a factory like dad had."  
  
Cassie opened her mouth to reply that it was probably a good idea, when a horrible idea struck her. What if David didn't join the Newsies. Would they go on strike? What would happen? She knew what was supposed to happen, but what if it changed? Should she say something?  
  
Finally Cassie made up her mind. "David, I've changed my mind." He looked at her questioningly. "I think it would be an excellent idea if you joined the Newsies. In fact I think you should take Les with you. Even better go now. Start right this morning." She added smiling.  
  
David looked at her, still unsure, "Well if you really think so." he trailed off.  
  
"I'm sure." Cassie grabbed a hold of David's shoulders and looked him right in the eye. "David, I've never been surer of anything." He looked surprised. "Now go, before they run out of papers."  
  
David freed himself from her grasp and turned to get Les. As they were leaving Cassie called out again, "Remember boys, headlines don't sell papes, newsies sell papes." She said with a wink.  
  
David smirked and took Les's hand. It was time. 


	5. the change

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I have a secret for y'all..I don't own Newsies. Shocking isn't it?  
  
Cassie sat pensively on the window sill; something David had said was running through her thoughts. ".us two quitting school." What had he meant? Had she quit school too? It was something to think about. If she hadn't she really should, if only just to help out with money. Cassie couldn't remember if Sarah had quit school or not.  
  
But back to more important matters. Would David mess things up without a few quietly whispered suggestions in his ear, or would today's push in the right direction be enough to keep history going? Absently, Cassie drummed her fingers on the sill. This kind of thing was enough to drive anyone crazy. Maybe she should keep an eye on him, just for history's sake.  
  
Cassie jumped off the sill and ran to her closet. She yanked the door open and looked in disgust at the dresses hanging there. These would never do. Cassie shook her head and went to David's room. She opened his closet and began to look thru his clothes. She didn't need anything fancy, something old would do. Cassie rummaged down to the very bottom of a pile of old, less than clean clothes. "Here we go! These will work perfectly!" Cassie thought as she pulled out the clothing she had chosen.  
  
She peeked out the door to see if her 'parents' were around anywhere. She didn't see them and quickly pulled the door shut. In the privacy of David's bedroom, Cassie transformed herself from 'Sarah' into just another nameless newsie. The brown pants were a little long for her and there was a rip in the right knee. A loose shirt and vest hid what slight figure she had, but it wasn't quite enough. Her hair was too long for a boy. Again Cassie rummaged in the closet, this time emerging with a hat. It was so worn and frayed it was amazing it held together at all. Carefully, Cassie tucked up her hair into the hat. The only problem left was her face. Even in the clothes David would be sure to recognize her if he got a good look at her face.  
  
Cassie sat on the uncomfortably lumpy bed, her brow creased with thought. What was she going to do? Cassie's eyes traveled absently around the room, landing unseeing on the cold fireplace. "Someone should really clean that thing. It's so dirty." she thought, not really paying any attention. "Wait.The fireplace.That's it!!!" Cassie rushed over to the fireplace and knelt before it. Without hesitating she plunged her hands into the black, sooty mass. Determinedly, Cassie rubbed lavish amounts of the mess on her face and clothes. She looked more like a chimney sweep than a newsie or a girl. She stood up, hurriedly and looked out the window once more.  
  
David and Les hadn't been gone long, but she would need to hurry if she wanted to be able to keep and eye on them. As she rushed from the room thoughts and plans whorled through her mind, David may know his sister, but he didn't know her. He would never believe that Sarah was dressed as a boy selling newspapers. The real 'Sarah' would never do anything like that. Something like that could help her immensely. She just had to make sure never to let him get too good a look at her, especially with a clean face.  
  
Sunlight dazzled Cassie's eyes as she ran from the building. As she ran in the direction she'd seen David take Les, she suddenly realized she wasn't afraid. She wasn't even nervous. It was nice for a change; to not be afraid about the mire prospect of meeting a bunch of people. "I could get used to this." Cassie thought happily.  
  
She slowed as she reached the distribution gates. The throng of boys were just starting to go in. Nervous butterflies danced in Cassie's stomach as she joined the crowd going in. This was it, from now on she wasn't Cassie, she wasn't the Seamstress, she was a newsie, and she was about to begin the greatest performance of her life. She was about to become a real Playgirl!  
  
A.N. Thanks for being patient. I know I went a little longer than usual in updating but I promise two chapters in my nest update. Hope everyone had a great weekend! Oh and thanks to my ever faithful reviewers BitterSweet, SparkHiggins, and Firecracker. Keep those reviews coming people! Love y'all like chocolate on a bad day- firemask 


	6. a friendship begins

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I know some of you may not understand this, but prepare yourself for a shock. I don't own Newsies. Audience gasps!  
  
Warning!: From here on in anything I do is artistic license. Things are gonna change.  
  
The butterflies in Cassie's stomach began to struggle more as Cassie fought her rising panic. The boys around her paid her no mind, and for that she would be forever grateful. She still wasn't sure how she was going to get close enough to help, but stay far enough not to be recognized. It would probably take some work and close calls to get it right.  
  
Slowly Cassie made her way to the end of the distribution line. A young Italian boy, a cigar hanging carelessly from his mouth, was coning Weasel into spotting him money for some papes. He looked so like Evan that she almost called out to him. It was an automatic response on her part. Whenever she got caught in a crowd, she looked for someone she knew to help her. This boy moved more fluidly that Evan but there was no mistaking that face, she'd seen him often enough while he was stripping her clothes off her that she would never forget his cockeyed grin, and sure manner. No mistaking it, he had to be Racetrack.  
  
She saw David in line and watched while he got gypped on his papes, and saw Jessie/Jack, (looking incredibly handsome), help him out. Suddenly it was her turn in line; she pulled out a quarter she'd taken from the apartment and slapped it hard on the counter.  
  
"Fifty papes!" she said in a forceful tone. It almost took her by surprise; she was never forceful with anyone. Weasel just sneered at her as he had the rest of the newsies and handed over the papers. Cassie gathered them up and jumped lightly off the platform.  
  
"That was pretty impressive, kid." A voice startled her from behind. "I ain't neva seen youse 'round here bafore." A hand belonging to the voice landed heavily on her shoulder. Years of habit kicked in and Cassie shrugged the offending hand off, spinning around as she did so. Cassie clutched the papers in one arm and prepared to lash out with the other if they tried anything.  
  
"Keep ya grubby hands to yaself mista'." She said dangerously, or as dangerously as she could manage. Cassie stopped and smiled suddenly when she saw who it was.  
  
Race pulled back his face alarmed. "I didn't mean notin' by it! Take it easy." He said nervously. Seeing her smile he smiled back. "Look, ya eva sell papes bafore?"  
  
Cassies shook her head truthfully. She was about to turn him down completely when a sudden thought struck her. Well two actually. Wait make that three. Her first thought was that Race could be her ticket into the newsies crowd. Sure, it could work! The second, was that he could probably help her deal with strangers and the huge crowds she was sure to get caught in. The third, and most off track, was that he really was incredibly adorable, especially when he wasn't trying to scare her to death by ripping her clothes off and on for costume fittings.  
  
Cassie took a gulping breath, and shook her head. "I'se tink I could use some help."  
  
"Well den kid, youse found da right guy! I'se warnin' youse dough, I ain't the best der is. But da best is busy wit a new partner and da other one is ova in Brooklyn." He smiled disarmingly, "Dat leaves me." He spit into his hand and held it out. "I'se Racetrack Higgins, but youse can call me Race, kid."  
  
Cassie spit into her hand and firmly shook Race's hand. "Ma names Sweeper. Ya can call me Sweep or whateva ya want, just lay off da kid stuff." She said rolling her eyes.  
  
Race laughed, "Fair 'nough, ki. I mean Sweeper." He glanced around at the boys getting ready to leave. "Ready for a day at da races?" He grabbed his own papers and pulled Cassie into the growing tide of boys leaving the distribution office.  
  
The twosome chatted and sold papers all the way to the Sheepshed races, and discovered they had quite a good time together. Race pushed her toward the street as she teased him mercilessly about one thing or another and kept walking. He smiled as he saw Sweeper stumble toward the edge of the side walk, and froze. He saw the kid hit a well dressed man as he climbed down from a carriage. The man looked at Sweeper in startled disgust and pushed him away. Race saw with heart stopping clarity what would happen next. Sweeper painfully, hit a light pole and crumpled to the ground. The kid's head smashed into the pavement and his body rolled limply into the streets. His papers scattered wildly around him in the street.  
  
The nearby carriage's horse reared in anxiety and came crashing down perilously close to Sweeper's head. "Damn!" Race yelled as he lunged forward to pull Sweeper's unconscious form away from the horse's hammering hooves. The driver was shouting, pulling on the reins, trying to calm to anxious animal. Race hesitated only a precious second before reaching out for Sweeper and jumping into the street. His hand closed over a thin, grubby wrist and pulled hard. His other arm caught Sweeper under his arm and they fell onto the safe, albeit hard, painful sidewalk.  
  
Race lay there panting for a moment, not hearing the irate cab driver yelling at him as he drove away, or seeing the strange and disgusted looks he and Sweeper were receiving. Slowly he sat up with Sweeper in his arms and leaned him against the same light poll that had knocked him out. A trickle of blood streamed from underneath the hat just above the kid's right temple. Carefully, Race removed Sweeper's hat to get a better look and stared in surprise at the long, cinnamon hair that spill gently from underneath the hat.  
  
Sweeper was a girl. Race stifled a laugh at himself. He hadn't really thought about it but now it made more sense. He'd thought the kid acted a little strangely, he'd just assumed it was all those years of supposedly cleaning chimneys, the work that had earn Sweeper his/her name, that had made him a little strange. Being a girl would definitely explain some things.  
  
Race sat back on his heels and looked at her intently. She really was pretty, even under all that soot. She didn't look like she was going to wake up any time soon, so Race put her hat back on her head, carefully tucking her hair under it. He looked around and saw their papers getting trampled on the sidewalk and street.  
  
"Stay right der." He told her unconscious form, and he turned his back to her. Race scrambled around trying to save some of the papers before they were ruined completely. He had a fairly large stack of papers when he turned back to the light poll. The smile on his face melted when he saw her spot empty.  
  
She was gone. Race dropped the papers and ran up some nearby stairs to get a better look around. "SWEEPER!!" he called. No response. He looked around widely. Had she left on her own? Or had she been carried off. It wasn't uncommon for that to happen. It was dangerous out on the streets, and even more so for girls. Race looked wildly around, but saw no sign of his new friend.  
  
Had he looked to his left a little quicker, he might have caught a glimpse of someone carrying a limp form over their shoulder disappear around the corner. Someone had taken Sweeper.  
  
A.N.: Dum dum dum. Who could have taken Sweeper/Cassie, will she be able to get back to her new friend and save Newsie history? Stay tuned for these answers and more. P.S. Hope everyone had or is having a marvelous Spring Break. I know I did. Spent over sixty-five hours on a bus for a band trip. Oh yah. The funess of it all. 


	7. just not her day

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I owned Newsies. But then a dark day came and they were stolen away, by terrible, powerful, people at Disney. And I never got over it, to cope I became a terrible liar.  
  
A.N. I would first like to say thank you to my ever faithful reviewers SparkHiggins, Firecracker, and Bittersweet. Now I want to say thanks to my wonderful new reviewers Hope and Plaid Pajamas. Yes I know that 65 hrs. is a bit much, but I survived!!! So you lucky people get to continue to read my fanfic. By they way Hope, I know you will have a blast on your trip, band kids always have the most fun. Hang in there until your spring break. And now on with the story!  
  
Race didn't see any sign of Sweeper and sat miserably on the steps. Their papers lay forgotten, trampled and now unreadable, on the sidewalk. She was gone. That's all there was to it, and Race knew she wouldn't have just left. They'd been getting along so well. They'd become instant friends in the minutes they'd known each other.  
  
Race's head snapped up as he heard a voice loudly proclaiming that a three headed baby had been born. He looked quickly around trying to see who it was. Finally he spotted the newsie. It was Specs. "Specs can help. Specs is smart. He can help me find her." Race thought as he ran to the corner where his target was selling just a block away.  
  
"SPECS!" Race called franticly as he ran toward him.  
  
Specs turned around and saw Race hurtling at him. His forehead creased in concern, Race was never this upset unless something was seriously wrong. "Race! What is it? What's wrong?" he asked concerned, as Race slid to a halt in front of him.  
  
"Sweeper's gone!!"  
  
Specs concern quickly changed to confusion. "Who or what is sweeper?"  
  
"She's a goil I met, used ta be a chimney sweep. She got hit on da head and I'se went ta pick up da papes and she was gone!" Race rattled on.  
  
"O.K. Slow down. Maybe she jus' left on her own." Specs tried to tell him, his hands gripped Race's shoulders.  
  
"No, she wouldn't of. She woulda said someting."  
  
"Alroight." Specs sighed, "What did she look liok?"  
  
"She's about 5' 7" or 8", she's wearin' some old, boy's clothes, and she's real diorty." he paused, "and really long, brown hair."  
  
Specs stood looking thoughtful for a moment. It couldn't be. But maybe, just maybe. "Race, where did she disappear?"  
  
"Just down da block, why?"  
  
"Dis is importaint now, when did it happen?" Specs questioned concerned.  
  
"Uumm, 'bout five minutes 'go. Why?" Race asked impatiently.  
  
"I'se tink I'se seen her. Someone carried her off 'round da corner, not tree minutes 'go." Specs said carefully. He watched Race's face. The expression turned from one of worry to happiness then to concern. "Race," Specs said quietly, "Da Delancy's took her."  
  
"What?!" This was not good. He couldn't take on the Delancy's alone, and Specs wasn't good enough either.  
  
As if reading his mind, Specs spoke, interrupting his panicked thoughts. "I think we need Jack an' some of da odders."  
  
"Ya roight." Race said punching his fist into his hand. "Let's go." Race grabbed a hold of Spec's vest and pulled him along as he sped off. Sweeper was definitely not safe wit the Delancy brothers and the sooner they got to her the better.  
  
"I'se tink Jack's sellin' over at the rings taday!" he gasped as Race continued to pull him along.  
  
Race responded only by changing course slightly and running harder.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Cassie groaned as she slowly came into awareness. This was definitely not her day. First she'd been whisked from her quiet sewing room and forced on to a stage, then she'd somehow fallen into newsie history, she'd smashed her head, and now she didn't know where she was. Nope, this was definitely not her day.  
  
Slowly she sat up in the near darkness of the room. The only light in the room was penetrating weakly through a window nearly black with dirt. She wondered where Race was. She wondered where she was. Her hand came up to rub her injured temple. Her back was killing her from the force with which she'd hit the light poll. No, this was not good.  
  
Cassie struggled to stand up and rub some of the black dirt off the small window. Blinding light streamed into the room, dazzling her eyes so that she had to cover them with a grubby hand. Once she'd adjusted to it she uncovered them and looked around. The room was small and airless. A door stood closed in the far corner. Cassie walked slowly over to test it. She had the sneaking suspicion that it was locked.  
  
Cassie's hand closed around the cold metal of the knob and turned it. It was indeed locked. She rattled it a few more times, just to be sure and finally gave up. The window was her only way out now. There was no way she would stick around to find out who had brought her here. If they locked her in it was not for her, but for them. The latch on the window was old and rusted, and stuck. With effort born of desperation Cassie forced the latch up, cutting her hand in the process.  
  
"This is just not my day." Cassie groaned as she searched her clothes for the cleanest part of cloth there. She ripped part of her shirt away and wrapped her bleeding hand tightly.  
  
The window opened easily but Cassie stood there staring at it in thought. She might not be able to fit through it; if she couldn't then she'd have to signal somebody. Anybody would do, as long as they helped her. If she could fit, then she'd have to make her way either back to the apartment or to Race, wherever he was. He was probably worried about her. She was sure he didn't know where she was or he would have gotten her out by now. By the sun it was almost noon and it had been about seven when she'd had the accident.  
  
Cassie wasn't exactly sure about what had happened, but it must have been painful, because it sure hurt now. She sighed and decided she might as well try to get out first. Cassie put her hands on the sill, and pulled herself up. She hissed in pain at her injured hand. She shrugged it off and pushed on through. First her head, then shoulders. It was a tight squeeze, but she'd made it so far. Cassie braced her hands on the sides of the sill and squirmed around until she was flipped over. Now she was sitting on the lower part of the sill, when a voice startled her.  
  
"Goin' somewheres doll face?" 


	8. a plan

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own those beautiful newsies; I just ask to barrow them every now and then. Plus if I did own them I wouldn't be doing this with them. *sighs dreamily*  
  
"Goin' somewheres doll face?"  
  
Cassie froze, half in and half out of the building. Her heart quickened. There was no familiarity in that voice. That meant it was someone new. Someone she didn't know, and that wasn't good. The malice dripping from the voice scared her. She took a deep calming breath and turned to meet the voice.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Race and Specs reached the boxing rings almost half an hour later, Spec still being half dragged by the smaller Race almost backwards, so that he had to twist around to see anything properly. Loud shouts directed at the two men in the ring echoed off the nearby building walls. The men in the ring were bloody and near exhaustion, but they stubbornly held on waiting for the other to give in and fall. The crowd around the center ring was huge, loud, and mostly drunk. Race and Specs looked at them in disgust. It was barely after breakfast and already these men were drunk. They looked cautiously around for Jack. It never hurt to be too careful in a place like this.  
  
"Der! Der he is!" Race shouted excitedly over the din. He grabbed a hold of Specs again, and began to weave his way through the crowd to the Cowboy.  
  
"Who's dat wit 'em?" Specs asked, "Is dat da guy we's met dis morinin'?"  
  
"I'se tink so, but dat doesn't matta, right now all we's need is da Cowboy."  
  
"Jack!" Specs yelled out, "Jack! Ova hea!" Specs watched as Jack looked for the source of his name. When he spotted them he said something to the two with him, slapped the older one on the shoulder and headed over to talk to them, or rather shout to them.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, shouting over the crowd.  
  
"She's GONE!" Race yelled back, lunging close to Jack's ear to make sure he heard.  
  
Jack clapped a hand to his ear painfully. "What was dat for? Ya coulda made me go deaf!" Then Race's words registered in his mind. "Wait a sec. Who's gone?"  
  
"Sweeper!" Race exclaimed a safe distance away from Jack's head.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes in Specs' direction. Then he noticed Race still had a hold of him. Specs was caught by his vest to Races hand that held it clenched tightly in his grip. Jack reached for Race's hand and forced him to let go of the vest.  
  
Specs nodded his thanks and looked expectantly at Race. "Wait!" Jack exclaimed a hand raised in protest, when he saw Race's mouth open to explain. "I'se don't unnerstand a woid comin' outta his mout'." He looked at Specs. "Youse tell me what's goin' on."  
  
Specs looked at Race's face that showed real concern for his friend and frustration for the time they were wasting. "Race met a kid dis mornin'. They got ta be real good friends and den der was an accident. Turns out da kid is a goil. Anyways, as a result of da accident she was unconscious, so Race leaned her up against a light poll an' left her der while he went to pick up da papes dey dropped." He paused and saw the look of surprise Jack shot at Race. He took a breath and continued when the Cowboy glanced at him. "When he was done, he went back ta da goil. She was gone. So Race," he gestured to the angry guy at his side, "was lookin' fer her when he foun' me. I'se tol' 'im I'se seen a goil dat looked like who he said Sweeper did." He paused, making sure he had Jack's full attention before he continued. Jack looked at him expectantly and gestured impatiently for him to continue. "She was carried off by da Delanceys Jack." He said quietly.  
  
"What?" Jack asked, unable to understand the whispered sentence over all the noise of the boxers and the gamblers surrounding the ring.  
  
Specs cleared his throat and tried again to get his point across. Jack stood impatiently waiting for the rest the explanation. "I saw her carried off by da Delanceys Jack!" he shouted this time. Specs looked impatiently from Racetrack to Jack.  
  
At first his face showed no response, then Jack looked directly at Race and spoke slowly but clearly, and loudly enough for them to hear, "Race, what have youse done ta da Delanceys lately?"  
  
"Notin' since dis mornin' honest!" Race cried helplessly.  
  
"All dis noise is makin' me head hoirt." he looked again at Race as he rubbed his temples, and tried again. "That qualifies as lately, Race. What was is youse doin'?"  
  
"Notin' jus' made fun o' dem like da usual." He finally caught on gasping. "Hey Jack, youse don't tink dey saw 'er wit me and took 'er ta get back at me do ya?"  
  
"We's gotta smart one 'ere fellas!" Jack exclaimed smiling broadly, but his look turned serious a moment later. "Come on! We's gotta get otta dis noise an' den I can tink 'o a real good plan." He stopped speaking and turned to the two people he'd left behind when he'd come over to Specs and Race. "DAVEY! LES! Come on we's gotta go somewheres an' make a plan ta rescue some goil!" he shouted across the crowd to the boys.  
  
Davey took Les's hand hoisted their remaining papes and led him obediently over to Jack and the other two. Without another word the five left behind the thundering noise of the boxing crowd for the quieter bunkroom of the newsie's lodging house.  
  
The lodging house was silent as a tomb when the group arrived. The noise they made as they tramped up to the bunkroom echoed strangely through the still and silent walls of the house. Wordlessly, Jack motioned for the others to pull up chairs around the only table in the room. As he sat he fiddled nervously with a rope at his belt.  
  
"Race, tell us all youse can 'bout what she looks like. Everyting from what she was wearin', ta what you tink she weighs, and ta how she moves and acts. I'se want anyting youse can give me. Including what injuries she had from dis accident, whatever happened der." Jack stated suddenly shattering the silence of the house like fragile glass, not even looking at Race as he spoke.  
  
"Well," Race began quietly.  
  
The planning had begun. 


	9. the rescue

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: You guys will never guess what happened to me.I won the Newsies in a contest! Well maybe not, but I dreamed I did. Waking up was a very tragic thing. (  
  
As Race supplied what Jack wanted to know his mind whirled with thoughts. Everything from where the Delanceys could have taken her to why Race was bothering with someone he hardly knew. The last thought was quickly pushed aside angrily as he thought of the terrible things the brothers were capable of, especially to people who couldn't defend themselves. Instead he turned his thoughts quickly to where they could be keeping her. There was only one place he could think of, but he had to be sure before they could go to check it out.  
  
Jack looked up at the others quickly; David was paying rapt attention to Race's outpour of information, and that was good because even though he'd told Race to start talking he wasn't listening. Les was watching him, and Jack flashed him a quick, cocky grin before he moved his gaze on to Specs. Spec seemed to be half listening to Race and thinking of something else at the same time. Race, meanwhile, was pouring out his information as fast as he could, his eyes darting around to the others faces to see their reactions to what he told them. He stopped suddenly and looked expectantly at Jack.  
  
"Specs, what direction did da Delanceys carry dis Sweeper goil off in?" he asked suddenly.  
  
Specs face was blank for a moment a he thought, finally he answered, "I'se tink dey carried 'er off in da general direction o' da distribution house."  
  
"Ya sure?" Jack asked getting visibly excited.  
  
"Ya, I'se tink so. Why?" Specs asked.  
  
"Wait a sec.! I'se tink I'se knows where she is Cowboy!" Race exclaimed excitedly.  
  
"And where would dat be Race?" Jack asked patiently, as he already knew the answer.  
  
"Dey's got 'er in the distribution house!"  
  
"Youse is right! Dey probably gots 'er in da basement somewheres." Jack replied as if the answer had just coming to him at that moment.  
  
"If we're going to go about this logically we should send someone to check it out. You know, see if she's there and all." David broke in suddenly.  
  
Jack, Specs, and Race looked at him in surprise. "Dat's a real good idea, Davey." he said with respect evident in his voice.  
  
"I'se tink we's should send in someone small and quiet like." Specs said thoughtfully.  
  
"How 'bout me?!" Les suddenly spoke up, excited.  
  
Jack looked at him fondly and ruffled his hair, "We'll tink 'bout it kid."  
  
"Well we's shouldn't wait much longa. Who knows what'll happen to 'er if she's wit da Delanceys fer too long." Race said impatiently.  
  
"Calm down Race. I'se gotta plan." Jack said suddenly, before Race could continue and get worked up again. If that happened then they wouldn't get a sensible word out of him until he calmed down again. And who knows how long that would take. He gestured to Les, "Lets keep dis operation small. Les'll sneak in and check tings out fer us. Den if she's der we'll all go in and get 'er out." He held up a hand at David's protest. "Les, as soon as you finds out if she's der or not you get out quick and tell us. Eider way, youse gotta get out in case der's fightin'." He nodded toward David, "Dat satisfy youse?" he asked.  
  
David nodded silently as Jack turned to Specs. "Specs I'se tink we's need some more help on dis one." He thought for a moment. "Lets get Blink, Mush, and Boots." He looked at Specs, "Do youse know where ta find 'em?" he asked.  
  
"Ya, but it'll take me awhile ta round 'em up." Jack nodded and turned to Race.  
  
"What do youse tink?"  
  
"I'se tink we's wastin' time. I'se tink we's should go now, but I'se 'ill jus let youse decide." he said angrily.  
  
"Specs, I'se want youse ta meet us back 'ere at noon wit da odders." Jack said firmly ignoring Race's protest.  
  
Specs nodded and left the bunk room thinking of where he could find the guys that Jack had listed. David looked at Jack as if for direction, then seemed to change his mind and spoke. "Jack, why are you going to all this trouble to rescue some girl you don't even know?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Jack thought for a moment, and then began to explain, "Davey, rememba does guys youse met when youse bought your papes dis mornin'? Da ones dat tried ta cheat youse?" He waited for David's affirmative nod and continued, "Dey's not da best peoples ta be leavin' a goil wit, and da fact dat dey kidnapped 'er is a major factor. Dat and Race likes 'er and he's me friend so I'se gotta help 'im."  
  
David nodded and replied, "I just wondered. I mean I know I would want someone to help my sister if it was her in that situation."  
  
"Well, like youse said I'se don't know 'er. She's lucky she met Race die mornin'." He paused, "Youse gots a sister?" he asked interested.  
  
"Yep, I'll have to introduce you sometime." David said offhandedly.  
  
Jack smiled for a moment, then sighed heavily, took off his cowboy hat and ran his hand roughly through his hair before jamming it back on his head and shoving his chair back. He stood up and motioned for the three to follow him. Silently the group followed Jack from the bunk room and out of the lodge house.  
  
"Where we's goin'?" Race asked as they walked quickly down da street.  
  
"We's are go talk ta Spot." Jack said calmly.  
  
"SPOT?!" Race exclaimed disbelievingly. "Why are we's going ta see Spot?"  
  
"Who's Spot?" David asked confused as he tugged on Les's hand to hurry his up.  
  
Jack turned around walking backwards to see them as he explained. "I'se want ta talk ta him 'bout something. He knows everting, and I wanna see if he knows 'bout dis goil Sweeper." He looked at Race. "Youse said she tol' you she came from Brooklyn and was a chimney sweep ova der, right?" Race nodded a confirmation. "Well, I'se wanna know why she's sellin 'ere an' not der. If she's gotta past I'se wanna know it bafore I'se get caught in it an' it gets us all in trouble." he explained simply.  
  
"I'se don't tink she's hidin' anyting Jack, but if youse wanna wast time goin' ova der den lets move fast. It's a long walk ta Brooklyn, and who knows how long it'll take us ta fin' Spot." Race stated.  
  
"Who's Spot?" David asked again.  
  
Jack looked at him patiently, "Spot is da leada o' da Brooklyn newsies, and he is da most powerful an' respected newsie in New York." He looked at Race again, "It won't be hard ta find 'im, he always sells by da docks."  
  
They continued on in silence, each thinking their own thoughts of what the day held before them, and behind. It was almost ten o'clock when they finally reached the docks in Brooklyn.  
  
Race looked around nervously. He wasn't exactly afraid of Spot, but he had a healthy respect for him. There was a reason Race sold in Manhattan and not Brooklyn, they were insane on this side of the bridge. No one listened to reason unless it was Spot's. Race only hoped Spot would listen to them this time.  
  
The docks were noisy with the cries of boatmen and passengers rushing to and fro. Crates and luggage were being loaded and unloaded carelessly by deckhands as they shouted to one another. Through the slight river spray and powerful morning sun the Jack and Race searched for Spot. Suddenly Race and Jack seemed to listen more intently, above the din a powerful voice could be heard shouting the absurdly improved headlines of the day to the innocent, naïve, and the not so innocent and naïve people that passed by.  
  
Jack's face suddenly broke into a wide grin. "Dat gentlemen 'ill be Spot."  
  
"Well, what are we's waitin' fer?" Race asked impatiently, "Lets' go!" Race started off impatiently in the voice's direction.  
  
David glanced at Jack and quickly pulled Les with him as they chased after Race. By the time they caught up with Race, David could see a young man just ahead selling a pape to a young man. The newsie wasn't tall or overwhelmingly muscled as David had been led to believe, but actually quite short for a man only about 5' 8", with dirty blond/brown hair. He had a wiry build and casual stance. Overall, David was not very impressed, and then he made eye contact. If nothing else had, those eyes caught David's attention. They were a blue gray, like the river after a storm. Those eyes demanded attention and screamed confidence and power. Suddenly, David knew this was not someone to mess even jokingly with. The newsie's glance was unnerving and David looked away, to Jack, and took his lead.  
  
Jack took the lead and walked casually up to Spot, and spit in his hand offering it to the other newsie. "Heya Spot, how's it rollin'?" he asked caually.  
  
Spot shifted his papers and spit in his hand, shaking Jack's offered hand firmly. His face was a mask as he answered, "Not bad Jacky boy, but ta what do I'se owe dis visit?" he asked with a slight hint of suspicion in his voice.  
  
Jack's hand dropped to his side as he looked quickly back at Race, David, and Les. "I'se need some infermation, Spot." He took a breath and continued, taking his hat from his head. "Do youse know anyting 'bout a chimney sweep turned newsie, name of Sweeper?"  
  
Spot looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "Na, I'se ain't hoid noting. If dey's a newsie named Sweeper he ain't from Brooklyn." He answered almost apologetically. "Why ya wanna know?"  
  
"Well, toins out dis Sweeper ain't a he, Sweeper's a she. Race," he paused and pointed back to Race, "met 'er dis mornin' and she went and got 'erself kidnapped by da Delanceys as payback ta Race, cause he couldn't keep 'is mout shut dis mornin' an' every mornin' since he met dem!" Jack finished exasperated.  
  
Spot eyed Jack and the others wearily, "Well, I'se know I'se ain't missin' any of our goils."  
  
"Are you absolutely certain you haven't heard of this Sweeper?" David broke in suddenly.  
  
Spot glanced over at him, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Wat is dis Jacky boy some kinda walkin' mout?"  
  
"Ya could say dat." Jack said smiling. He reached around him and grabbed David by the shoulder, shoving him forward, "Dis is Davey, da newest addition tad a family."  
  
Spot looked him over for a second, as if trying to decide something, and then spit in his hand offering it to David. David looked at it disgusted, but decided it was best not to anger the Brooklyn leader by refusing. He spit into his hand and awkwardly shook Spot's hand.  
  
"An' who's dis liddle shrimp?" Spot asked catching sight of Les who hand been exposed when Jack had pulled David forward.  
  
Les looked up in fright for a moment then met Spot's eyes. The Leader's eyes sparkled in amusement for a moment and Les smiled. "I'm Les, and I'm a newsie!" he exclaimed brightly. Spot shook his head and smiled slightly at the kid.  
  
"Not dat dis isn't all very intersting but I'se tink we's otta be headin' back now. Da sooner we's get back da sooner we's can rescue Sweeper!" Race finally broke in impatiently.  
  
Spot looked dangerously at Race and then spoke to Jack, "Youse might wanna keep 'im on a tight leash Jacky boy, unless youse want 'im ta play wit me fists." he said still scowling at Race.  
  
"Race," Jack said, quickly putting himself between the two. "I'se tink youse should back off an' apologize."  
  
"Fine, I'se sorry Spot!" Race exclaimed nervously. "Now I'se leavin' wit or witout youse." Race turned abruptly and strode off across the docks back to Manhattan.  
  
"Where's he goin' so fast?" Spot asked.  
  
"He's a liddle woirried 'bout Sweeper. We's spossed ta meet Specs an' some odders back at the lodging house at noon. We's gonna resuce Sweeper an' den find out what 'er story is. Der's sometin' wrong wit da story she told Race, an' I wanna know what." Jack explained, combing his fingers through his hair roughly in frustration.  
  
"I'se tink I'll come wit youse Cowboy an' see what kinda goil it takes ta get da whole house woirried 'bout her when youse only known 'er a day."  
  
"Well youse welcome ta come Spot, but I'se gotta tell youse Race is da only one dats eva met her. An' it's only gonna be a few o' us goin' afta 'er. I'se wanna keep dis quiet, atleast until I'se atleast met 'er." Jack said tiredly.  
  
"Youse said Race only met 'er dis mornin'?" Spot asked and waited for Jack's nod of confermation before continuing. " I'se gotta meet 'er den, she must be someting else." Spot said grinning amusedly.  
  
"Well times awastin' den!" Jack said jamming his hat back on his head and turning in the direction that Race had disappeared in a moment before. The group walked quickly towards Manhattan, Les being pulled along by David if he tried to slack. On the way Spot continued too sell his papers and was quickly sold out before they even reached the bridge. Jack shook his head; trust Spot to be all business first.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
As Cassie turned to look at the owner of the cold voice her insides seized up coldly. This was much worse than being in front of a crowd, this was about the worst experience she'd ever had and she hadn't even seen the guy yet. Her eyes, downcast as she looked, saw first a pair of dusty men's shoes, a pair of slacks, a dirty vest and shirt, and then a snaring face. A hat sat atop his head a small feather stuck in the band.  
  
"Come 'ere sweetface." he snarled and grabbed here arms and pulled her out of the window and into his arms. "Dis ain't exactly how youse is supposed to be leavin' goil." His face was close to her's now and she could smell his putrid breath on her face.  
  
Cassie was frozen in fright, ridged in her captor's arms, 'This is really BAD!' she thought terrified. She heard a sound from inside the room she had just escaped as the door that had been locked burst open. She heard a voice shout in alarm that she was gone. 'Oh boy, two of them. This is NOT my day!' she thought, almost sobbing aloud at the unfairness of her life in general, at least the last few hours of it. She almost sobbed aloud as her captor shouted into her prison that he had her and she wasn't going anywhere. 'Get ahold of yourself, idiot! This isn't doing any good.'  
  
The man who held her captive tightly in his arms suddenly picked her up as if she weighed nothing and carried her effortlessly back into the building. It must have been the back of the building because she couldn't see the street anywhere. Cassie took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. 'Here goes nothing' Cassie opened her mouth wide and started to scream piercingly, her fists pounded his back mercilessly as she kicked and continued screaming.  
  
Her efforts weren't having much of an effect on her captor but she hit him a few good ones by the time they were back in the building. "Morris! Get ova 'ere, she's getting' ta be more trouble den she's worth." he growled angrily at his brother as he hauled her down the steps to the basement of the building.  
  
Morris came into the room from Cassie's prison just as she twisted from his brother's arms and made a mad dash for the stairs and freedom. "No way goily!" he yelled as he raced after her. His outstretched hand caught her ankle as she was running up the stairs. He pulled hard and she fell helplessly forward.  
  
Unable to stop herself, Cassie pitched forward and smashed her chin on a step. She saw stars burst in her vision as it went black like some terrific fireworks show, then she was, again, unconscious. Her hand fell outstretched towards the door, reaching for her escape.  
  
Morris hauled her roughly up, taking care to make sure he hit her head hard against the metal railing of the stairway a few times before he back down into the basement. "Oscar, nail dat window shut, we'll leave 'er in da room for awhile longer and den start what we'se took 'er for." Morris threw Cassie headlong into the room, she landed hard on the cement floor, collecting some more uncomfortable bruises and scrapes.  
  
When Oscar finished with the window he turned to Morris, "Are youse sure we'se can't start now?" he asked plaintively, like a child begging for a sweet he knew he couldn't have.  
  
"Well maybe, just a little." Morris said, his voice trailing off quietly as he looked wolfishly at Cassie.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Meanwhile, deep in the shadows of a printing press a small, silent figure watched horrified as the door to Cassie prison closed, effectively sealing the two brothers and the girl off from his vision. He listened for a moment to be sure they hadn't looked the door and they snuck quickly over to the only other window in the basement of the distribution house.  
  
Les pushed the grimy window open silently and willing hands grasped his arms pulling him swiftly out of the basement. He leaned. Pale against the brick building and stared horrified at his older brother before speaking. "She's in there alright. Looks just like you said except for she's a lot more bruised up then you said she was before, Race." He paused looking extremely upset about something.  
  
"What's wrong wit da kid?" a boy with an eye patch asked concerned.  
  
David shook his head at Blink and got down in front of his little brother. "What is it Les? What aren't you telling us?" his hands gripped Les's shoulders and forced the boy to look at him.  
  
Les, who was trying to look everywhere but at his older brother, was forced to look him in the eye as David's hands gripped his shoulders. "It's her Davey." He paused before continuing. "It's Sarah."  
  
"What? You mean our sister Sarah?!" David asked not even waiting for an answer as he made a sound deep in his throat.  
  
"WHAT?!" Jack and Race looked at the two disbelievingly, "Your sister is Sweeper?"  
  
Spot grinned amused despite the severity of the situation, "Well Jacky boy looks like dis is gonna be one intersting reunion."  
  
"Is der any reason we'se still standin' 'ere?" Blink asked impaitiently.  
  
Race shook himself and said, "No, dis don't change notin'. We'se still gotta rescue 'er."  
  
Jack looked at the two brothers. "Well let's go. Les, you stay 'ere wit Specs. Da rest of us is goin' in. Where is she anyways?" he asked the small boy.  
  
"She's in a back room in the far corner of the basement." Les said shakily.  
  
Jack nodded grimly and started to go first. Spot swept his cane in front of him, "I'se believe I'll be goin' first, Cowboy." Spot said low and dangerous, now that a fight was in sight.  
  
Jack moved back and spot slid silently through the window and dropped down to the floor without making a sound. He kept his eyes on the door as first Jack then Race, Blink, David, Mush, and finally Boots followed him. They crept closer to the door and could hear sounds of a scuffle and talking coming from inside the tiny prison. Spot gestured to Jack to open the door wide on his mark.  
  
Spot waited until Jack was in position and counted silently to three. He nodded sharply to Jack. The Cowboy threw the door wide open to reveal the scene inside. The Delancey brothers stood over Sweeper/Sarah kicking her mercilessly as she tried to fight weakly back. It wasn't doing her any good and her struggled somehow changed her position. Her head lay dangerously close to Morris's shoe and he brought his foot back intending to land a blow there when Oscar reached out and grabbed his arm. He stopped, seeing the newsies start to run into the room.  
  
One newsie he recognized, it was the kid who'd made a scene this morning about getting cheated, ran straight up to him and brought back his fist landing a painful blow just under his chin. Morris's head snapped back and suddenly the first newsie was replaced by another with a cane.  
  
The newsies continued to attack the Delanceys until it was obvious they weren't going to be waking up for awhile. Jack looked around for the girl and saw her propped in a corner. Her head lay on David's shoulder, Spot and Race sat nearby watching them. Jack walked over silently taking in the girls features with some difficulty. Her face was still dirty with ashes and soot from her earlier disguise, and even under that he could tell her face was covered in bruises. But even under all that he could tell that she was pretty at the very least. He looked at Spot, who was also noticing and at Race who looked only worried for his newly rescued friend.  
  
"Well come on, lets get her back to the lodging house." Jack sighed. He stepped forward to help David pick her up but David surprised him as he gently and silently lifted his sister into his arms. Jack looked at David and thought again of how David kept surprising him. He was going to have to keep and eye on that kid. First coming up with ideas, then speaking up in front of Spot, almost knocking Morris off his feet with one punch, and now caring for his sister so silently.  
  
David walked determinedly toward the door, the newsies clearing a path for him silently. Once at the door he turned around and glanced at them. "We'll go to the lodging house; I don't even want to try to explain this to my parents with out her help." He nodded towards his sister who was still unconscious in his arms. They nodded and followed him as he headed purposely towards the stairs and began to climb towards the back exit. Jack held the door and took Les's hand as they all walked silently to the lodging house.  
  
And as Cassie slept on, safe in the arms of her 'brother' she didn't even realize how drastically she was changing the newsie's history.  
  
A.N. Well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, because I didn't want to leave you hanging too much. Just a little bit. I'll update again before the week is out! Remember to PLEASE review. You guys have no idea how much I look forward to reading your reviews. Plus if you like something how will I know not to change it? Or if you hate something how will I know to fix it? Keep it rollin'!- Firemask 


	10. at the lodging house

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: For those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I will say this carefully. I. Don't. Own. Newsies. Now on with the story!  
  
As they headed toward the lodging house Jack began to question David. "What is your sister doin' dressed up like a boy?" he asked strangely.  
  
"I don't know." David answered simply.  
  
"Well why didn't she jus' come with youse?"  
  
"I don't know." he answered again.  
  
"Do youse at least know why she made up dat story she told Race?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Do youse know anyting, kid?" Spot broke in finally fed up with the way things were going.  
  
"Apparently not about her." David answered quietly, nodding to the limp figure in his arms.  
  
"Look, dis ain't getting' us nowhere, let's just leave it alone till she wakes up." Mush broke in impatiently, his gaze taking in the group of newsies and finally resting on the girl lying in David's arms. 'She sure is somtin' else.' he thought.  
  
It was in silence that they reached the Manhattan lodging house a short time later. Jack broke apart from the group and ran to open the door, calling inside to Kloppman as he did. "We'se gotta visitor Kloppman!"  
  
Kloppman looked up from his counter just inside the door and smiled as he saw them. He caught sight of Spot as he entered behind Jack. "Spot, it's been awhile. Nice to see you." he called, his attitude changed suddenly when he caught sight of an unfamiliar young man with someone in his arms entering just behind Spot, a little boy tugging at his jacket.  
  
"Dis is Davey, his liddle brother Les, an' his sister Sarah or Sweeper or something." Jack said seeing Kloppman's look and gesturing to each as he introduced them.  
  
"Nice to have you." Kloppman answered nodding to them. He turned to Jack, "I'll just leave you to it then."  
  
"I'll explain later." Jack said apologetically as he made his way up the stairs followed closely behind by the rest.  
  
When he reached the top of the stairs he opened a door into a bunkroom. He gestured to a bunk at the back of the room, "Dat ones empty, youse can put 'er der."  
  
David walked quietly forward and gently placed his sister on the indicated bed. She moaned quietly when her back touched the bed and David's jaw tightened in anger again. The boys stood around the bunk looking silently at her each with thoughts of their own.  
  
"We'se should clean 'er up." Boots said suddenly.  
  
They looked at him and then to David. He nodded. "Well, we'se gonna need water, a clean cloth, and some clean clothes for 'er." Jack said. "Specs, youse an' Boots get da stuff," Specs and Boots left the room and headed into the bathroom. "an' I'se 'ill."  
  
"You won't do anything. She's my sister." David said sharply, interrupting him. He looked at Jack, his gaze saying telling Jack that in no uncertain terms would he permit any kind of argument.  
  
Jack held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. Davey 'ill take care of 'er."  
  
Spot smirked when he saw Jack surrender to the new kid. He'd seen that one coming a mile away. He'd wondered when the kid would speak up. If it had been his sister he would have done the same thing, except with more force. The others seemed no more surprised than Spot at David's interruption.  
  
Specs and Boots returned carrying the necessary items and gave them to David. "Come on guys." Race said suddenly to everyone, as he started to the other side of the room. "Just yell if youse need us." He said to David and pulled out his cards. "Anyone for a game o' poker?" he asked settling in across the room with the others. As he dealt the cards he glanced over at Sweeper and her brother, who was gently removing the grimy shirt from her body. Race looked away, his face coloring slightly. Spot saw him and smirked at him.  
  
David stripped his Cassie gently down to her underclothes, or rather his under clothes. Shaking his head at the sight he wet a cloth with water and gently began to clean the dirt, ashes and soot first from her face, and neck, then her arms, and hands. It was a slow process, and he grew angrier and upset each time he uncovered another cut or bruise. He may have hated fighting, he may not have been very good at it, but he was very protective of his family. The fact that this had happened to his own sister, and that he had no idea what she had been up to, bothered him to no end.  
  
A.N. Next chapter, Sweeper wakes up, but what will she tell the guys?! 


	11. an expanation and a mob

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, so suing me would be like trying to get blood from a turnip!  
  
"So what alls wrong wit 'er?" Jack asked as David came over to him.  
  
David put down the clothes he'd taken off his sister and the water basin, the cloth floated darkly in the dirty water. He sat down next to Jack and watched blankly as the water sloshed around in the bowl. His voice was hard when he finally spoke, completely unlike anytime he'd spoken previously. He'd been angry, and cold, and exasperated, loud when he'd hawked the headlines, even unsure when they'd first met, but never hard.  
  
"How could this happen, Jack?" he sighed in anger or maybe frustration. "Her back is all bruises, her face." He stopped and took a shuddering breath. "Her face is pretty badly beaten up. Bruises everywhere, cut on the right cheek, split lips, her arms are just covered in bruises, scraps, and cuts." his voice trailed off and he shook his head as though to shake off his anger and confusion.  
  
"Dey sure did a number on her didn't dey?" Jack asked softly.  
  
"Ya, well I can't blame it all on the Delanceys, she was in that accident with Racetrack earlier. Do you know how many times she could have died today?" he asked suddenly. "What am I going to tell our parents? They'll kill us both!" he smiled crookedly at Jack, "Sometimes having family is not all it's cracked up to be."  
  
"Maybe not Dave, but youse gots a sister dat obviously cares 'bout ya. She wouldn't of done sometin' like dis if she didn't, at least I'se don't tink so. I don't know 'er too well yet." Jack joked.  
  
"You don't know her at all Jack, but I guess you're right. Besides Les give Race something to do now." he said pointing at the two. Les sat so close to Race he was almost in his lap. Race's forehead was creased as though in intense concentration as he taught Les how to play poker. The two appeared to be having the time of their lives, and every now and then they would both burst out laughing.  
  
"Hey, Jack?" David asked tentatively.  
  
"Hm?" Jack asked as he turned from Race and Les and back to David.  
  
"Is it okay if Sarah and I stay here tonight?"  
  
"Sure, but why?"  
  
"I don't particularly want to explain anything to my parents tonight. Les can go home; he can keep his mouth shut. I'll just tell them that we're staying with some friends." He looked over at his sister. She lay still on the bed, just as he'd left her.  
  
"She'll wake up soon." a new voice broke in suddenly. David and Jack turned in their chairs to face the voice. Spot sat on the window sill polishing the head of his cane. "I'd bet youse money dat she's tougher dan she looks."  
  
"Ya well, when she wakes up I am going to get some answers, whether she likes it or not."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
It was almost three o'clock when Cassie finally woke up. She glanced carefully around the room through slitted eyes, making sure the boys didn't know she was awake yet. It didn't exactly surprise her that they had found her and rescued her (something for which she would be eternally grateful), but the amount of people in the room got her thinking. She knew that it couldn't be very late in the afternoon yet; the sun was still shining in through a window. So what were all these boys doing back from selling so early?  
  
Quickly Cassie took a count of the boys she could see, trying to put names to faces as she did. There were nine that she could see. David was the closest, Les sat on Race's lap, a young man with an eye patch (that could only be Kid Blink), Jack with his cowboy hat perched on his head, he was talking to a boy with his back to her. The rest were scattered around the room but she couldn't get a very good look at any of them. So many! What was she going to tell them?  
  
Carefully Cassie shifted on the bed, biting back a gasp when she moved her back. She wasn't quiet enough. David's head snapped up his eyes flying to her face to see if she was awake. Cassie looked directly at him and her heart almost stopped. The look of anger on the face she knew so well was awful. He was angry at her. She just knew it, but why? Was it because he'd had to rescue her? Because she'd been hurt? Or because she hadn't told him what she was going to do? He would want answers, and quickly Cassie began to think of what she could possibly tell him.  
  
As soon as he saw she was awake David moved swiftly from his chair to her bed. Gently he caught her shoulders and helped her sit up against the wall. He took a deep breath to try and keep from exploding on her right away. It didn't work.  
  
"What were you thinking?! How could you do something like this?! You could have gotten yourself killed, and then what would I tell mom and dad?!" he yelled at her, she winced and tried to speak, but David wasn't finished. "Sorry mom and dad, Sarah's dead! What? Oh no, I don't know what she was doing! SHE DOESN'T TELL ME ANYTHING ANYMORE!!!!" he continued sarcastically, his voice was cold and rising in volume as he spoke.  
  
"Davey!" Race said running over to him, he grabbed David by his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Calm down sos she can tell us what she was doin'!" he looked questioningly at Cassie. "So what do we'se call ya? I'se mean youse ain't really a Sweeper so what do dey call ya? Just Sarah?"  
  
Cassie nodded trying to get herself under control; all the guys were coming over her bed and looking at her. This was not good, a small space and nine boys all pressed as close to her and the bed as they could get, not good at all. Cassie gritted her teeth and pushed herself against the wall as far as she could get.  
  
Concern showed in David's eyes as he watched her actions. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.  
  
Cassie started to say she was fine and reassure him, but someone interrupted. "No she ain't, Davey." Race said. "She's been though a lot taday."  
  
"No kidding, Race?" David asked wide-eyed in feigned surprise.  
  
"Shut up, da two of ya! Youse ain't gonna get any answers from 'er if youse don't shut up." Spot yelled at the two of them in exasperation.  
  
"You guys, ummm, could you maybe back up a little bit?" Cassie asked quietly.  
  
David's eyes narrowed suspiciously. This wasn't like Sarah at all. Normally she would love this kind of attention. Of course she hadn't been acting at all like herself today. The remark about selling papers this morning, dressing like a boy, and everything else wasn't like her at all. Something was up. "Okay guys, you heard her, back up a little."  
  
The newsies backed away from the bed slightly, not much, but it was enough for now. Cassie's gaze rested briefly on each of the newsies as she put the rest of their faces to names. She recognized them all, but it was hard to think of them as the newsies and not of her friends from home.  
  
"Well are you going to tell me what this is all about?" David asked impatiently. His fingers drummed noisily on the bed post.  
  
"David, I'm so sorry, it's just that I didn't want you to get hurt or into trouble so I thought that if I could keep an eye on you I could not only take care of you but help contribute to the family too." She trailed off, noticing the disbelieving look in his eyes.  
  
She waited for him to say something, to demand the truth. But he never did. He just shook his head, gave her a look that said she was still in big trouble but that they would talk about it later. She looked at the others; they too had disbelieving looks on their faces, especially Racetrack, but at David's curt nod they seemed to relax a little. Cassie let out a sigh of relief; it was then that she caught sight of Spot.  
  
'What is he doing here?' she wondered. 'He shouldn't be here until the strike starts.' Her eyes widened involuntarily. 'Oh NO! I'm messing it all up already!'  
  
She cleared her throat noisily to get David's attention. He looked at her curiously. "David, how did you, umm, get me away from the Delanceys?"  
  
"How did you know who they were?" David asked suspiciously.  
  
"What? Oh, Race pointed them out to me this morning. Right, Race?" she asked shooting a glance at him as he sat down at the foot of her bed.  
  
"Huh?" he asked confused, and then he caught her look. "Oh ya, Pointed dem out foist ting ta warn youse."  
  
"Youse shoulda seen it, goil." Mush said excitedly, his eyes sparkling merrily.  
  
"Why? What happened?" she asked suspiciously, shooting her brother another glance.  
  
"Youse brodder got da foist punch in. Almost knocked dat Delancey out cold, an wit one punch no less!" Blink broke in laughing.  
  
"What?" Cassie asked dangerously.  
  
"Now it's not what you think, sis." David said holding his hands up defensively. This was all new territory to him. Sarah never acted like this and David wasn't sure he liked the change. "I just wanted to get to you and he was in my way."  
  
"David, you never fight." She said incredulously.  
  
"Well, I've never had a reason to before." He said slowly.  
  
"Oh, Pete, uh, Davey! That is so sweet!" she exclaimed throwing her arms carefully around him. "I can't believe you think I'm worth fighting for!" Her eyes began to tear as she hugged him tight. Her back was beginning to really help, but she didn't care.  
  
David hugged her back tightly until she cried out softly in his ear. He let go and her first words hit him. She'd called him Pete again. "Sarah, who's Pete?" he asked quietly.  
  
She looked at him strangely and shook her head. "Who? Oh, I don't know any Pete. I think you're hearing things brother.  
  
"I'se know youse is 'er brodder an' all, but maybe youse should let 'er go. I'se tink youse hoitin' 'er." Boots said softly from where he stood, at the foot of the bed. David nodded absently and set her gently back to where she had been.  
  
"How come youse are surprised dat Davey came for youse?" Jack asked curiously. Sarah looked at him, but didn't answer. She glanced at David and Race. "Before I answer all their questions maybe you could introduce us." She reminded them quietly as she shrank back against the wall a little more.  
  
David looked at her strangely and pointed to Jack. "This is Jack Kelly."  
  
"But everybody calls him Cowboy!" a small voice piped up from the other side of the bed.  
  
Cassie glanced over to see who had spoken and saw Les unnervingly close to her face. He laughed at her expression and sidled up next to her on the bed.  
  
Jack continued the rest of the introductions, "Dis is Kid Blink, Mush, Specs, Boots, yas already know Racetrack, and dis is Spot Conlon da most famous an respected newsie in alla New Yawk an' maybe da woild." As the boys had been introduced they stepped forward and removed their hats, nodding to her. Spot, however, got right next to her and raised one swollen bruised hand to his lips and kissed it gently, careful not to hurt her. She smiled at him, even though it hurt. Jack frowned slightly at the sight of the two of them.  
  
As Spot drew away from her David leaned closer. "In case you've forgotten, my name is David and that," he said pointing to the little boy at her side, "is Les. We are your brothers."  
  
Cassie shot him a disapproving look and then turned to the rest of the newsies. They had moved in closer surrounding the bed, but somehow it didn't affect her as it had before. She actually felt a little safer in this crowd of boys she hardly knew. They seemed so much like the people she knew from home, she supposed that had something to do with it.  
  
"To answer your question Jack, I'm not so much surprised as enormously happy and grateful. He's the best brother I could ever hope for!" she said smiling at him.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
As the day wore on Cassie successfully answered their questions and gathered information of her own. At last she slipped into a fitful slumber and dreamed of all that had happened.  
  
David sat at her bedside as she fell asleep and looked up, out the window. The sun had set along time ago and it was late. He got up and went over to the corner of the room, where Jack was teaching Les how to use a laso.  
  
"Come on, Les." He said tiredly reaching for the child's hand. "I've got to take you home now."  
  
Les rubbed him eyes sleepily with a small fist. "Good-night Cowboy. Good- night everybody." He said quietly. The boys waved and called out quiet good- nights to him.  
  
David bent down and picked him up carefully. "I'll take him home and come back. It won't take me long. I should be back in about twenty minuets, a half hour at the most."  
  
Jack nodded. "I'se ill walk downstairs wit youse and talk ta da boys dat are down der. I'se tink Kloppman is keepin' dem der until I'se come down."  
  
The trio left the room in silence. When they reached the bottom newsies crowded around Jack asking questions. Jack waved his hands for silence and pushed David toward the door. "Go on, I'se watch ya sister for youse till youse get back." David nodded and carried his now sleeping burden out the door and towards the apartment.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
David reached the apartment and with some difficulty explained to his parents that Sarah had gotten caught at work late (she works?) and that she was staying with some friends of hers and David would join her as soon as he left. He gathered a few things he though Sarah would need and left for the lodging house.  
  
The night was cool and stars shown dimly down on the city. He stopped absently on a street corner and gazed up at them. Even after everything that had happened today, life still went on. He marveled at the stars for a few minutes longer before he began walking again. He wasn't watching where he was going and was startled out of his reverie when someone ran painfully into him.  
  
"Hey!" he exclaimed, startled, rubbing his chest where the man had hit the hardest. He looked down at the man and gasped at what he saw. His face was covered in blood from a long gash running across his forehead. He was slumped into a broken, bloody pile at David's feet. Shouting startled him into looking away.  
  
A crowd was coming. They had torches and weapons held high over their heads as they advanced down the street towards David and the unfortunate man at his feet. The yelling was getting louder and more violent the closer they got. David whirled around panicked. They were the trolley workers, they had to be, 'what is going on?!' he thought wildly as he looked for a way to escape.  
  
He was surrounded and other men were running towards him from all sides. They didn't appear to be part of the mob; they were terrified as they ran toward each other, and him, the mob advancing grimily and loudly on all sides. 'This is definitely NOT good.' David thought grimly as he was boxed slowly and dangerously in. 


	12. the body

Seamstress to Playgirl  
  
Disclaimer: I have a dream that one day all Newsies fans will one day own a piece of the Newsies. That they will be able to take turns doing whatever they want to do to or with them...Okay, that sounds really wrong...I dream that one day this WILL happen, too bad I always wake up.  
  
David was in real trouble and he knew it. The men running from the mob were almost to him, the mob close behind. Once they reached him he would have to push his way though or fight his way through. Either way he had absolutely no chance and he knew it. A few blocks over he could see the glow of a fire reflected in the smoky sky. Warning bells were clanging loudly and horse drawn firefighting vehicles could be heard faintly, their own bells swinging in warning.  
  
David dropped the Sarah's things and tried to fight down the panic that was swiftly rising in him. He clenched his fists and bent down to help the man that still lay at his feet. The man groaned in pain and put a dirty hand to his head. He squinted darkly at his hand when it came away covered in blood. David reached down and pulled the man to his feet, wincing when the man screamed in terror when he saw the mob. When David had the man's arm around his shoulders he looked around one last time for somewhere to escape to, his searching gaze landed on a small alcove across the street from him. A shoeshine chair was the only in it, and there was a small space just behind it. A space small enough for just one person.  
  
David looked down at the man's face and without further hesitation he quickly dragged the man over to the alcove and helped the man behind the chair. With his dark clothes and a little luck nobody would see him. With the man safely hidden he pushed himself against the wall and into the shadows. He watched on in silent horror as the men that had run ahead of the mod met up with each other in the place where he had been standing. With nowhere else to run the put their backs against each other and grimly prepared to defend themselves. They were dead and they knew it.  
  
The mob ran ever closer and clashed together in an attempt to crush the men that had apparently refused to join the union. They were now invisible under the mob. Men were crawling all over themselves trying to get to the traitors. David shut his eyes against the nightmarish sight and tried in vain to ignore the pain filled and horrified screams and ugly shouting of the mob. Even with his eyes closed David knew with a terrible certainty that they were being torn apart and would not survive the fight.  
  
Shrill whistles cloud be heard on the edges of the mob and police on horse back suddenly appeared. They trampled and clubbed men in an attempt to break up the mob. At the focus of the mob realization penetrated as to what was happening. The mob broke and tried to run, but a horse drawn paddy wagon burst into the center of the crowd. Driver and horses trampling men indiscriminately.  
  
Without realizing what was happening David found himself swept along blindly by those that were trying to escape the police. Hands pushed and shoved him out of the way and down onto the ground suddenly and without warning. His knees hit the cobblestones with a painful jarring. A booted foot landed squarely on his back pushing him firmly onto the street.  
  
Panic shot through him as he realized what was happening. He was going to be trampled. In the panic and hysteria of what was left of the mob there was no one to help him. More feet ran over him and he heard the sickening crack of his ribs breaking. Pain shot through him and overwhelmed any defense he might have been able to put up, and then a heavy boot kicked him hard on side of his head. Blackness engulfed his vision and he knew no more.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Jack sat in David's seat next to Cassie's bed and glanced at her worriedly and looked over at Specs. He sat reading a worn book of Shakespeare and answered the question he knew Jack was going to ask.  
  
"It's ten tweny-two, 'xactly two minutes after da last time youse asked me."  
  
"How long ago did he leave?" Race asked, chewing nervously on his cigar.  
  
"Hour ana half ago." Spot answered emotionlessly, again polishing his cane head to keep busy.  
  
The lodging house was silent as each boy sat thinking. They'd only met David this morning, but they knew that he should have been back, and they knew that he wouldn't leave his sister. His actions this afternoon were evidence of that. Something was wrong.  
  
Those that hadn't been involved in Cassie's rescue had been quickly informed and were impressed with the new newsies actions. They were naturally curious about Cassie and were waiting for her to wake up to get to know what kind of girl would do what she had. Without any warning her eyelids fluttered open gently and she sat slowly up, groaning as she stretched her arms and legs.  
  
"Youse okay, kid?" Spot asked coming down from the bunk he'd been on and sitting at the foot of her bed.  
  
"I feel much better after a good sleep, Spot." She looked distractedly over at David's chair and was surprised to find Jack sitting there staring at her with a worried expression on his handsome face. "Hey, Cowboy? Where's David?"  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Policemen steadily worked their way through the bodies of broken men on the blood soaked street, every now and again stopping to check closer to see if one was alive. A meat wagon was steadily loaded with dead bodies, more blood running from the floor of the wagon and onto the street. One police officer stopped to curiously check on a body.  
  
It was a young man, a teenager really. It looked as though he had been trampled. His breathing came in painful gasps and he groaned. The officer made a quick check and decided he was well enough to go to in the waiting paddy wagon. Form there he would go to the Refuge. The man shook his head as he dragged the boy to the wagon and practically threw him inside. 'They are getting younger all the time.' He thought sadly, and went back to checking the bodies.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
A.N. I know I'm a very mean person to leave you hanging yet again, but I really have to go so this is something. I promise to update soon, probably by the middle of the week. A HUGE thank you to all of you that review! I live for those reviews! I also live for acceptance so keep them coming! Again I'm really sorry, but at least I know you'll be back for more... I hope 


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